


Not Done Hoping

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: Mending The Broken Things [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam Milligan is Not a Winchester, Adam Milligan is So Done, Adam Milligan is a Winchester, Adoption, Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Ash is actually a roadie, Awesome Charlie Bradbury, Awesome Missouri Moseley, Banter, Because she knows exactly what to say, Blood and Injury, Bonding, Bus Driver Castiel, But he kind of sucks at it, Car Accidents, Cas helps the band, Castiel (Supernatural) Loves Burgers, Castiel Wants Dean Winchester to be Happy, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Castiel cares about Claire, Characters play D&D, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Charlie Bradbury & Sam Winchester Friendship, Charlie Bradbury loves hugs, Christmas, Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), D&D is awesome, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester is Loved, Drinking to Cope, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Everybody deserves better than they got in canon, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Issues, Film References, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Head Injury, Heavy Drinking, Honestly she's the ultimate mother figure, Humor, I'm trying to write this like Supernatural is a super-angsty Hallmark movie, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester tries to be a good father, Kevin and Ash are friends, Lead singer in a band au, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Medical Trauma, Minor Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, POV Adam Milligan, POV Alternating, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Parent Jody Mills, Pop Culture, Protective Dean Winchester, References to Canon, Rock and Roll, Sassy Claire Novak, Sometimes I get salty about the show, Swearing, Teacher Sam Winchester, Thanksgiving Dinner, This sounds contradictory but bear with me please, Timeline Shenanigans, Tour Bus, Who says you can't go home?, Work In Progress, tour bus shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: John Winchester has never been much for celebrating Christmas, not since he lost the love of his life in a house fire. He threw himself into work at the car garage he ran, and it was up to his eldest son, Dean, to keep the family going. Things got a lot harder with a third child coming into the picture at age twelve.And now it is the first of November, eight years later. Dean has become a mechanic, working in that same car garage alongside his father in Lawrence, Kansas. He hasn't really seen his two younger brothers in the last several years. They just… grew farther and farther apart. Sam is a teacher now, specializing in civics and law. And Adam is halfway through his third year of college at the University of Wisconsin.But it's getting closer and closer to Christmas, and even though Dean isn't the praying type, he's heard - and thought - about things. Used to love this time of year as a kid, and this year he wants to bring his entire nuclear family together again. A tall order, but he's got help from a few good friends. And isn't this supposed to be a time for miracles?





	1. Now.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bouncing round my brain since my father has forced me to watch an inordinate amount of Hallmark movies with him, haha. Every single one is ridiculously schmaltzy and contrived, but I got the idea to try writing an angsty version of one a la Supernatural. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks as always go out to Eric Kripke and to all the actors on the show Supernatural for making their characters so incredibly believable.
> 
> A note on the composition of this piece:  
> Every new scene is announced by the presence of a single tilde ~  
> Switching POV is marked by three asterisks ***  
> Long-term memories/flashbacks are indicated by a pair of brackets around ellipses located at the beginning of said flashback(s) [...]

Dean Winchester has always liked Christmas. 

Okay, he's not the _'ooh it's the first week of November so let's put Christmas decorations everywhere and crank up the music'_ type of guy, but he has been known to pull out the colored lights and decorate a tree for his dad. He had gone a lot crazier with it when his brothers were young enough to live at the house. Loved making it magic for them, but since Adam and Sammy are out on their own, it's mostly just him pouring rum into eggnog for himself, his father, and Bobby on Christmas Eve.

Sometimes Rufus shows, despite the fact that he practices Judaism, because "December 25th is a pagan festival that the Christians symbolically renamed as Jesus' birthday. So I can still believe in Santa!" He says. Bobby snorts incredulously but says nothing about it. For Dean's dad it is mostly a day when he opens Scotch instead of whiskey, and works at the garage from twelve to five instead of eight to six.

Dean really digs working at the car garage too. There's just something about fixing cars that he finds awesome - he can figure out what's wrong with them and what to do about it easily. He has always been a good hand with painting and wiring and mending chasses. There's a simplicity, an art to the work. And then the cars are gone and you don't have to worry about them anymore.

People are a whole 'nother story. It's not always easy to tell how a person is broken, and if they are, whether or not they can be fixed. His father, for example. There is no part that Dean has been able to find that can help him deal with losing Dean's mom. He hadn't been the same since she died in the fire. Never could forgive himself for not being able to save her. Though she had gotten Sam out of his bed and handed him to her husband, she had been trapped in the bedroom. There was nothing he could have done, but no one could tell John that. Dean had been there too, a terrified seven-year-old, and has the same attitude about it; about a lot of things. He thinks he is at fault. 

Dean figures the distance of his two brothers is one of the other things he is to blame for. Sure, they both went to college - Sammy to Stanford and Adam is now in his third year at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Says he wants to be a doctor or maybe a veterinarian. Sam is a high school history teacher. But neither one has come back to Lawrence since they left for college.

Adam volunteers at a medical center during the summer and Sam is teaching civics, last Dean heard. "At a HIGH SCHOOL, Bobby! Can you believe that?" The eldest Winchester asks as he helps the gruff older man with a few of his used cars. "Not only is he goin' back to teach these kids, he just got done with college! It's like he never even left school in the first place. Nerd."

Bobby Singer rolls his eyes. "Maybe that's because he found his calling, ya idjit. I don't ever hear about Sam rippin' you a new one for bein' a mechanic."

"Whoa, Bobby. Hang on a sec." Dean smacks his lips, growing defensive as he turns to stare at the older man head-on. "Sam shoulda given me crap, is that it? He's the one who LEFT us, him and Adam both - and Dad'll never say anything, but it eats at him that two 'a his sons don't give a damn, don't come back home for Christmas, or... or anything. So I think I'm fully entitled to talk some crap." Dean wags a wrench in the air to accentuate his point before turning back to the car they are currently fixing up.

Bobby sighs. He lowers his head and leans his hands on the car's hood, breathing hard. Then he rears up and whirls around without warning, flinging his own wrench so that it bounces off the nearest wall with a deafening CLANG! Dean jumps and stares. "You stupid, stupid son of a bitch! Well boo-hoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, Princess! You think family is supposed to make you feel good?! Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They're SUPPOSED to make you miserable - that's why they're family! I've heard you bitch and moan a hundred times about this, but if ya wanna change any of it, you've gotta be the one to fight, boy. If you want to see your brothers again, Dean - go and GET 'em!"

Dean, stunned, recalls a memory - he had been about four or five and his parents had gotten into a huge fight. Dad had left the house fuming, and his mom was upset, visibly shaken. He had gone over to her after his father stormed out and gave her a hug as he said "It's okay, Mom. Dad still loves you. I love you too. I'll never leave you." 

_I'll never leave you._ Those words hit Dean in the gut along with, and as hard as, Bobby's do now. Despite the older guy's gruffness, he does not often yell or speak with such disapproval. "You gotta fight for your family, boy - and you keep on fighting, no matter what. You don't leave them behind or let them leave you." Dean has to see his brothers this year, even if they don't come back to Lawrence with him, he's got to try to get together with his family. His whole family. 

But his father is not one for allowing his employees leave or to cash in on all their vacation days at one time. Especially if the employee is his son; John Winchester can be accused of a lot of things, but nepotism is not one of them. Dean ducks his head and gets out more tools to help Bobby with a few other clunkers. Since he's over here, he might as well; that has always been the agreement. Bobby gets Dean's help to put his cars into sellable shape, and his customers are told to go to Winchester's Garage whenever they require a tune-up. Reasonably priced, of course.

Dean just considers himself lucky that his family doesn't end with blood.

~

One of the members of said family is calling him right now, her ringtone blasting from his phone:

_I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby I'm sure  
And I just can't wait till the day when you knock on my door -_

"Charlie Bradbury. How the hell are ya?" Dean asks as he answers the phone with an automatic smile.

"'Sup, bitchez?" Is her sprightly response. "I'm good, Dean, I'm good. The band is back together - well, together officially for the first time, actually - and we're going on tour!!" She squeaks. "Eeee I'm so excited!"

"That's awesome," he says. "Really great. I'm happy for ya."

"Aw shucks, Dean." She giggles, kiddingly bashful. "How're you doing?"

"I'm...good. Still working with my dad, so it's same old same old around here. But yeah, I'm doing fine."

Charlie's voice takes on a knowing tone. "Wow, Dean. Next time maybe try to be at least a LITTLE bit convincing. How's Sam?"

Sammy. Oh boy. "Uh, he's - he's good, I think. Teaching now. High school history in Lebanon. Kansas," he adds hurriedly. "- not the Middle East. We... haven't really talked in a while. Busy times, ya know."

"I bet." Charlie says. She hears a wistful note in her friend's voice and wants to help him feel better, knowing how much he misses Sam. "You should go visit him, though! I bet he'd be happy to see you."

Dean smiles at her eager suggestion. Good ol' Charlie, always looking for the positives. "I... was actually planning on doing that," he admits. "Seeing if I could bring him and Adam home for Christmas." He thinks of the youngest, up at school. "He's goin to college in Wisconsin," Dean tells his friend.

"Wow!" Charlie whistles. "I forgot he was in college now. Time really flies, huh?"

"Yeah." More like it's slow as hell without the whole family at home.... Dean blinks hard as he hears Charlie ask what Adam is doing in school. "Uhh - doctor stuff, I think. I know he volunteers at some hospital or clinic or something. Sam told me, last time I talked to him." Which was almost a year ago. Dean clears his throat. "Anyway, why else are you callin', C? Ya can't just want to hear about my screwed-to-hell family."

"Aw, su familia es mi familia," says Charlie. "I'm serious," she adds when he snorts. "I love you guys. But also, the Moondor Maidens are going on the road, and um - I need a favor." The pitch of her voice rises. "It's a pretty big one. Maybe even huge."

"Out with it, Char." Dean says. "C'mon."

She takes a deep breath and says in a rush: "Okay, well, you're totally not obligated to say yes, and I dunno if you can get enough time off work, but we bought a band bus. A big Itasca one. Huge. And we're driving it - well, we have a driver going across the country with us. Across the western half, anyway. And I was wondering if you'd be willing to come be our resident mechanic and expert in rock and roll?"

"Ohh, that's awesome! Itascas are sweet buses. Durable too. She's probably a gas-guzzler, though. How many maidens you got ridin' with you?"

"Well Castiel is driving the bus; we have Alex, Jo, Claire, and me; plus we alternate having Ellen or Jody and Donna in the bus while the other two are in the car behind. Pius Kevin and Ash, our two roadies. Sooo that's nine at a time, including you. Don't get any ideas, Dean - not everyone is interested," she adds, well-aware of his track record of flirting - and other stuff - with ladies. To soften the blow, she adds "We've got all our instruments and sound equipment too, so with all of us it's gonna be a party!"

Dean laughs; what the hell, it sounds like a blast. "All right, I'm in. Let me know where to meetcha."

"Booyakasha! I'll text you the details on when we'll be crashing your town. Hang in til we get there, Dean."

He grins again at her earnest excitement. "Will do. Great talking to you, Charlie."

"Same here. Bye!"

Dean hangs up the phone and heads into the car garage. Now he just has to figure out how to tell his father that he needs some time off work. Normally a person would just ask their boss for it and maybe fill out a leave form or something, but John Winchester is a stickler for rules, regulations, and vacation paperwork filled out three months in advance. It's the Marine in him, Dean would guess.

~

He now maneuvers around chassis belts and winches on the garage's main floor, stepping by hand trucks and smelling oil and grease and metal and tire rubber; the scents common to all cars but that intermingle in one heavy concoction that is a bitch to get out of one's clothes at the end of the day. And each smell has a particular tang that lets a person know _yeah, that car is mine. My Nova, my caddy, my rig._ Dean stops beside a low-hung rig on the floor where he had been nodded to when asking if anyone has seen his father. "Dad." He calls, and then clears his throat and says louder over the whine of an electric power washer a couple stations over, "Hey, Dad?!"

John Winchester's cargo-pant coated legs and heavy work boots stick out from under the rig. With a a grunt and a shift that extends one large hairy and greasy arm out from under the vehicle, he says "Hand me the three-fifth wrench, Dean."

"...Yes sir," Dean responds, going over to his dad's toolbox and picking out the required tool. Crouching beside the rig but not too close just to be safe, he extends his hand. "Here."

John takes the wrench and winches a bolt tight on the undercarriage, dark eyes flashing above his unshaven cheeks as he focuses on the bolt. Done winching, he rubs ineffectively at a spot of oil stuck to the hair of his right arm. Eyes rising to catch and hold his son's, he puts a large hand on the edge of the vehicle and rolls himself out from underneath it. 

"We got a new order in today, Dean. A big one. Where were you this afternoon?" He asks, sitting upright and pulling a rag out of his cargo-material coveralls to dab some sweat from his face.

"I - was at Bobby's," Dean speaks hesitantly. "Helping him fix up a rust bucket to sell an' send the new owner over here. ...Your deal, remember?"

John huffs in irritation. "I also remember that you have a duty to this garage that comes first. Obviously you can't honor that duty if you're consistently gallivanting off to Singer's Auto Shop." Wiping off his wrench and then his hands on the rag, John Winchester faces his son directly. "Am I making myself clear?"

Dean swallows and straightens his shoulders. "Crystal clear, sir."

"Good." His father graces him with a sharp nod. "Now, today's new client needs a particular part for his rig that we've got to order special. I put in a call half an hour ago to the only place that carries it in the States. Shop in Stockton, California - and it won't be in for a week at the least." Leveling his eyes at his eldest, the father adds "I want you down there when it gets in to haul it back yourself. This is our biggest break of the year." 

Dean's stomach drops. So much for asking if he can have a few vacation days. "...Does the client need this _right away_ , or can I go down in a couple weeks, Dad? I'm sure we can get it -"

John's voice is flinty: "Are you questioning a direct order, Dean?"

"No, I was just -" Dean tries to explain, but his father jerks his clipboard off its peg to check off the work he had just completed and stares his eldest son down over its top. The customers come first. Right. Softer Dean continues "...No sir." And then as his father whistles to and hands the clipboard to another worker so they can log the completed vehicle and call the owner to come and pick it up, Dean hopefully adds "Can I take the car?"

John stops and pivots on his heels to look at his son again. "You going to take care of her this time?" He demands. 

The bright hope in Dean's green eyes dims a little, but his voice is sincere as he responds "Yes I will, sir." _I love that car._ "You know I will. I promise."

John sniffs and strides into his office on the left side of the main space, Dean trailing silently behind him. The burly older man takes his time glancing backwards at his eldest son before going over to the coat hook on the wall amd reaching into his coat pocket slowly. Drawing out the key ring, he holds it over Dean's ready palm and clenches his fist. "Keep her spotless, you hear me? I expect no wear and tear, no complications." 

"I'll take care of her, Dad." Dean closes his fingers around the keys tenderly as soon as John drops them into his hand.

Something flashes in his father's eyes for a split second; a sadness. Regret lingers there, along with a deeper tugging feeling that Dean registers before his father blinks and claps him on the shoulder with satisfaction. The other expression is gone, and Dean figures he must have imagined it as his father now speaks gruffly "Well you're burning daylight - you better get going, son."

Dean nods after a moment, tossing up the keys and catching them. He grabs his own jacket and shoots what he hopes is a carefree, reassuring smile back at his father as he lifts a hand and exits the office. 

"Dean." His father calls and he looks back, wondering if he will say 'thanks' or 'good luck' or 'drive safe, son.' But his father simply points to the punch cards and tells him to clock out. Right. Dean does and strides quickly out of the main garage to reach their 1967 Chevrolet Impala parked out in the back.

"Hey there Baby," Dean pats the shiny black hood before unlocking the door and hauling himself into the driver's seat. Running his hands up and down the steering wheel, Dean grins and puts the key into the ignition, relaxing at the familiar rumbling purr of her engine as it starts. Nothing has ever sounded so sweet. "Ready for an adventure, girl? Let's roll!" He pulls on his seatbelt and peals out of the staff parking lot out onto the main road, turning on the radio to blast the familiar, comforting strains of Zeppelin:

_Babe, baby baby, I'm gonna leave you, oh_  
_I said baby, you know I'm gonna leave you_  
_I'll leave you in the summertime..._  
_Leave you when the summer comes a'rollin  
_Leave you when the summer comes along!__

_____ _

_Bay, bay, bay, bay, bay, bay, baby baby_  
_I wanna leave you - I ain't jokin' woman_  
_I really got to ramble... Oh I've got to ramble;_  
_I can hear it callin' me the way it used ta do;_  
_I can hear it callin' me back ho-ome!!!_

_____ _

_____ _

_[....] I know, I know I'm never gonna leave ya  
But I've got to get away from this place...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, a road trip of epic proportions has begun!
> 
> The song Dean is listening to is "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" by, who else? Led Zeppelin.


	2. Lebanon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The one in Kansas, guys. Sam may be taking his life in his hands by teaching high school but he's not on an educational mission abroad. At least not yet.
> 
> And yes, it is the first of November so his class has been learning about, and is writing papers on, the first Thanksgiving.)

Sam Winchester sighs as he finishes grading the final history paper of the evening. Pushing his chair backwards, he drops his pen onto the dark green blotter covering his desk. Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, the twenty-five-year-old teacher closes his eyes. If he has to read one more misspelled version of the Wampanoag tribe - or hear them called Indians again - he is going to lose his mind.

He hears a brief set of taps on his cracked-open door and then his co-teacher pokes her head in, a blonde curl escaping her messy bun and framing the right side of her face. "Hey, Sam. How's your grading coming?"

"Oof! Hey, Jessica," hey says, opening his eyes and nearly tipping his chair over backwards. He can _hear_ his older brother chuckle in his head, and knows that he would say in a loud whisper something like: 'smooth, Sammy - well done'. Sam clears his throat now and tries to cover his embarrassing almost-fall. "It's, um - interesting. But I'm almost done; just finished editing the last of the Thanksgiving papers. Do you want to add any notes, or - ?" He holds up the pile toward her.

Jessica puts a hand up and smiles. "No, that's okay, I trust your judgement and prowess in editing, Sam. You're probably a lot more patient with the work than I am - my blood pressure spikes when there are more than three spelling errors."

Sam laughs. "Per paragraph, or sentence?" Jessica's brown eyes widen in half-serious horror.

"See? You've got the patience of a saint, Sam Winchester. I don't know how you do it. I've never even heard you raise your voice at anyone in your classes. I feel like I'm yelling all the _time_ at my students," she confesses. She has come over to his desk and now leans against it. Ducking her head to look into his eyes, as Sam has lowered them bashfully in response to her words of praise, Jessica asks "What's your secret?"

"Oh there are times that I want to yell, trust me," Sam replies. "But I uh - my older brother Dean has said and done enough ridiculous stuff for me to have seen and heard practically everything, and when a student says something I can just laugh it off." Sam slaps his knee with a hand. "I just think of the dumbest things my brother has ever done, and none of 'em made me stop loving him, so -" he shrugs. It has come close sometimes, but that's family for you. Sometimes they do the worst possible things. "...With the kids I guess I can just smile and move on."

Jessica gazes at Sam with appreciation and concern in her eyes. It has been clear to her for a while that Sam is having some issues with his family, but she doesn't want to push or pry too much despite the fact that she has known him since their sophomore year of college. So she starts speaking hesitantly now: "Sam, I know this is none of my business, so feel free to tell me to back off, but - you always talk about your younger brother Adam. I think I heard you mention your older brother once in passing, and your parents not at all. This is the most you've told me about Dean in all the time I've known you, and I just wondered - what's he like?"

"Dean?" Sam pauses. How to describe Dean...what can he say? "He's - the good son," he bursts out. "The one who stayed with our dad in Lawrence to take on the family business helping at the car garage. He always follows Dad's orders." _Every single one. No matter what the cost is._ Sam breathes heavily. He notices that Jessica's eyes are wide as she sits in a chair beside his desk now, listening. He manages to calm down before speaking again.

"He also...took care of me when we were little, after our Mom died." Sam chokes on those words, and Jessica reaches over to him, taking his hand and squeezing it. He shoots her a small smile and squeezes back. "Thanks, Jess. Uhm, Dean was practically my parent once Mom was gone. She was - amazing. Golden and beautiful. She sang to us and had the best smile." His tone is wistful. "After she was gone, everything was a lot darker, sadder. Dad got closed-off, angry. He drank and he and I fought, but Dean was always there to try to calm us down and stop the fights. When Adam came, Dean would take us both out somewhere in the car while Dad cooled off." Sam smiles now, recalling his brother singing loudly in the car, turning up the music and grinning to cheer him up. "D would play pretty much the best of mullet rock and that's it. Screaming along to the words and air-drumming as he drove down the road." Jessica smiles too, imagining that.

"I'm not the biggest rock music fan, and neither was Adam, but I got used to Dean telling me 'House rules, Sammy - driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole'. And things were good with us, until..." The night Sam left for school. When Dad said those hurtful, awful things and Dean just STOOD there. "... Until I left home. My dad told me not to come back, so I haven't."

***

Dean puts in a phone call to Charlie as he heads out of Lawrence on I-90 after going by the house and tossing some clothes into a duffel bag.

"Hey Charlie, it's Dean. Listen, I got put on a job for my dad, so I'm headin' to California, but if you give me the name of a place on my way that you'll be stopping in too, I can still meet you to take a look at your bus. Sound good?"

He hears some chatter in the background of Charlie's call:  
_"-Claire, you are not driving the bus, young lady. A regular driver's license is not the same as the license for a bus. Besides, you've only just gotten your permit."_  
"-And you're telling me that CASTIEL has a bus license??"  
"-I have been around long enough to obtain this ability, yes."  
"-Ugh. Castiel, no one asked you...,"

His friend clears her throat and says "Gals and guy, hey, don't want to interrupt but I've got a call over here. -Sorry 'bout that Dean, your plan sounds great. Let me just ummm - Jo, pass me the tour date itinerary, would ya? Thanks, girl." Another voice, this one familiar to Dean, asks Charlie who is on the line. "It's a good friend of mine, Dean Winchester."

"No shit!" The other voice exclaims, and there is a shuffle and some murmurs over the line. 

Charlie says "Whoa, okay, Dean - Jo says she knows you! This is _crazy_ , hang on." There is a beep and Jo's voice comes right into the speaker.

"Is this the Dean Winchester who's never in the right place at the right time?"

Dean huffs out an incredulous laugh and shakes his head. "Well I'll be damned. If this is the Jo Harvelle who hustles any guy trying to hustle her." She lets out a laugh of her own in reply and he adds "How're you doing, Jo? It's been a while."

"Oh I'm great, Dean. My mom finally let me out of the house. And the business."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" He lays on Baby's horn as he moves over a lane, passing someone who had abruptly slowed down in front of him. "Learn how to change lanes, jackass! -Sorry," he clears his throat and continues the conversation. "No one can drive on 90."

"... Except you, right?" Jo deadpans.

"Damn straight," Dean responds instantly. There is a huff from Jo and a chuckle from Charlie. "So, your mom let you leave work at the Roadhouse, huh? How'd you convince her to let you go?"

"Because she got to come with me," Jo sighs. "She's driving behind this bus right now." Dean guffaws. He would expect nothing else from uber-protective mama bear Ellen Harvelle. "I hear you're coming to hang with us," His friend continues.

"Yeah, I am. You good with that?"

"Well I need SOMEbody to drink with; everyone else here is either underage or too chicken for whiskey and tequila."

"Hell yeah, I am on my way - still in Kansas, about two hours outta Lawrence right now."

"I'll give ya back to Charlie so you two can work the details out. You'll have to tell me how you met her."

"Deal. Tell your mom I say hello."

"I will. See you when you get here."

"Bye Jo." He hears another shuffle and then Charlie's voice is back. "Alright Char, whaddaya got for me?"

"Well, we're heading through Reno in a couple days; let's see... on November 4th. Does that give you long enough to join?"

Dean does a mental mileage count. "I can get there, sure. See you then, kiddo."

"Yay! See you, Dean."

Dean hangs up the phone and fondly shakes his head. It is incredible to him that his two closest female friends know each other somehow. Can't wait to hear that story when he gets to Reno. Right now, though, he has more pressing concerns: like the fact that he is almost in Lebanon where Sammy lives and tomorrow is November the second.

Dean cannot believe it has been twenty-two years. How can it have been that long already? It still seems like yesterday, sometimes, that Mom was making pie, asking him about school, and being awesome, and then...then she was gone.

Dad had gone off the rails for about two years, and then he stopped. Lessened the drinking, found another way to cope - with work. Only work. _He was an obsessed bastard, put it on me to take care of Sammy, which I always did. He didn't even have to TELL me. I took care of Sam and Adam and now I'm takin' care of Dad too. But I can't even go to see my brothers except when I'm on a friggin job -_

Dean presses the Impala's gas pedal flat to the floor and roars into the tiny township of Lebanon, Kansas. It is pretty late, but he drives to Sam's place anyway. The last time he had been there was the day Sam moved in. He parks on the street and sneaks through a window into the front room.

***

Sam opens his eyes and lies stock-still in bed. He thought he had heard a sound coming from downstairs. There it was again - a whooshing noise and then slow creaks made by footsteps. Someone is in his house.

He rises and carefully picks up the wooden bat he keeps leaning beside his door, careful not to disturb the sleeping form next to him. Tiptoeing out of the bedroom and down the hall to the stairs, Sam hesitates for a split second before hustling down. Someone grabs the bat and wrests it away, but Sam throws his arm around and his clenched fist connects with what feels like a jaw. Two hands shove him bodily backwards but he kicks out and connects again, low this time. With a leg. 

The shadowy figure grunts and tosses the bat aside. Sam comes at them ready to punch again, but the person grabs his arm and flips him over, slamming Sam's bulk back-first into the floor. "Easy, tiger," an amused face looms above his, light coming through the front window and bathing half of it in an ambient glow; including a pair of bright green eyes that sparkle with mischief.

" _Dean??_ " Sam gasps. "You scared the CRAP outta me!"

"Heh. Must be gettin' rusty. Hiya, Sammy."

Sam's eyes narrow and he grips his brother's arm, using weight and leverage to reverse their positions and pin Dean's back against the floor. 

Dean lets out a squeak of air and adds "...Or not." He slaps his hands up at Sam's shoulders, and the younger man reluctantly lets him go.

"What are you doing here?"

Standing with a bounce and straightening his jacket, Dean quips "I was lookin' for a beer." When receiving nothing but an exasperated sigh from the other, he waggles his eyebrows, turning to take in the rooms of the house.

"I'm _serious_ ," Sam says. "Couldn't you have called first?"

"Would you have picked up?" The eldest counters. Sam stares but does not reply. Dean sniffs and nods rapidly, looking away. "That's what I thought." He taps one hand on the coffee table and peers through the next door to the kitchen. "Nice place you got here, Sam. I'm impressed with what you've done with it. Got a little home decorator in you, eh?"

He's stalling. Dean does not want to admit what he is here for, so he's going to keep joking and yammering on about the house, Sam can tell. He has to head him off. So he looks at his brother with eyes wide, and genuinely worried because of Dean's evasiveness, he asks "Is something wrong, Dean? ...Is it Dad?"

Dean sighs. "Dad's _fine_ , Sam. What, am I not allowed to drive through town to see my little brother unless something's wrong?"

"Uh, no, because you never DO," Sam's eyes widen and his mouth purses in a pronounced 'oh' shape. "You haven't come to see me since the day I moved in."

"Yeah, well, it's a two-way street, buddy boy," Dean snaps. He doesn't need this now, not when he's already thinking about Mom. And Dad....

"...Sam?" A female voice emanates from the stairwell and a tall blonde girl appears, stepping down to stand beside Sam. "What's going on?"

"Jess, hey. Sorry we woke you. Dean, this is Jessica. We went to college together and we work together now. Um." Sam is squirming a little, as they hadn't officially become boyfriend and girlfriend. Tonight just kind of...happened. He clears his throat and scratches his head awkwardly, extending a hand to gesture to his brother, who is now smirking a little. A lot. "Jessica, this home-invading idiot is my brother Dean."

"Dean," Jess puts out a hand to shake Dean's, her eyes brightening with recognition. "Wow, it's funny - Sam and I were talking about you earlier tonight, actually."

"Oh really?" Dean raises an eyebrow at his brother as he shakes her hand. "Interesting. Well it's a shame that he hasn't mentioned you. Probably because he knows you are obviously _way_ out of his league." Dean's eyes travel over Jessica, who is wearing a top and panties alone. 

"I'll just - go put something on," she says, extricating her hand from his.

"No need," He assures her with a smile. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'm heading out anyway; just wanted to come an' see my little brother, tell him I'm in town through tomorrow. It's that time, ya know."

"What time is that?" Jess asks, looking from Dean up at Sam, who shakes his head slightly at his older brother.

"Oh, well I'm headed to California for work, but I stopped here for Mom." Dean's eyes lock onto Sam's pointedly now as he smacks his lips. 

Sam's expression changes, darkens, and grows pointed. In a far softer tone of voice he says, "Jess, please excuse us. We have to go outside."

~

"You know what tomorrow is, Sammy."

"Yes I do, Dean. And I know how much you miss Mom - and Dad does too - but the way you've both always gone off and worked so hard to act like nothing's changed..." Sam lets out an explosive breath of air, striding back and forth across his front porch, "I don't get it, man. I've never gotten it. Mom is gone, Dean. And she's never coming back."

Dean wipes his hand downwards across his lips with a nod. He looks away for a split second and then whirls abruptly, slamming Sam back against the wall of the porch, hands gripping handfuls of his brother’s shirt as he shoves his shoulders. “Don’t talk about her like that!” Dean snarls before relinquishing the taller man and turning away. 

Sam clears his throat and straightens his t-shirt. His hazel eyes hold burgeoning sorrow and regret as he looks again at Dean, who seems diminished now; shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and ducking his head. “Dean,” Sam starts just as his brother looks up. The younger man presses his lips together and flashes concerned puppy-dog eyes. 

Dean rolls his own eyes with an exasperated huff of breath that is almost a chuckle. “Ah god. We’re not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” Sam just looks at him and moves forward but Dean raises a staying hand. “C'mon, no chick-flick moments, okay? Bitch.”

“Okay,” Sam responds. It’s the same old Dean; honestly, what does he expect? “Jerk.” He drops the subject (for now) and asks “So. What’s in California? A new muscle car somebody’s gotta have? Or a girl?"

“Car part, actually. Only comes in to this one rare parts shop in Stockton. Dad ordered it in, so I’ve gotta get out there and back to the garage before Christmas.” About the girl, he shrugs. Who knows? There are always possibilities.

Sam snorts as Dean smirks. “…Dad sent you halfway across the country more than a month in advance for a part that can totally be shipped to the garage directly after it comes in? Wow.” He shakes his head. He should have expected that of his father; his orders always come first, even if they’re idiotic and ridiculous to follow. "... I'm surprised he let you take the car on your own."

Dean crinkles his eyes and tilts his head a little at his brother's tone. “Oh, come on Sam – really? You aren’t even in town anymore and yet you’re _still_ bitchin’ about how he does things. And I'm twenty-nine years old, dude.”

“I just don’t think that’s fair to you to have to do this! But you always follow Dad's orders like a good little soldier – no matter what they are.”

“It’s called bein’ a good son!” Dean’s temper flares again. He flings out both of his arms and then stops. He hadn’t come here to scream at Sammy and bring up the past, even though apparently that’s what his brother feels like doing. “Y’know, I’m not gonna do this,” he adds. “It’s late, I need my four hours, and I woke your lanky ass up.” _Shouldn’t have bothered._ Shaking his head, Dean pats his brother’s shoulder and starts down the front steps. “Night Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam calls softly after him, but all his big brother does is lift his hand in a stiff little wave. “…Good night,” Sam sighs. As Dean unlocks and ducks into the Impala, Sam wonders what else had made his brother stop in Lebanon. Was it REALLY just because of him missing their mom and wanting to check on Sam? The younger Winchester presses his lips together and goes back inside as his brother rumbles down the street in his car.

~

Sam quietly pulls the front door to behind him and looks up to see Jessica curled on the far corner of his couch, a blanket around her shoulders. “Jess,” he says in surprise. “I figured you'd have gone to bed. Why are you still awake? You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

She shrugs, smiling. “Ah, well, I figured you might have needed me. Seemed like there were some heavy topics to discuss.” Tilting her head and looking behind him, she adds “Where’s Dean? Was he not going to stay for the rest of the night?”

“No, he—he didn’t ask. I didn’t offer,” Sam bumbles out the words, dipping his head down. “I still don’t know why he wanted to come here to see me. It can’t just be because of Mom,” he adds half to himself. “Can it?” He walks over to the couch now and Jessica arches her eyebrows as she looks up at him.

“…Did you _ask_ him?”

Sam pushes hair behind his ears and flops down onto the sofa heavily. He pinches both cheeks inward with the fingers of his right hand. He huffs out a rueful chuckle of a breath. “No, I didn’t. I should have, but – Dean doesn’t _talk_. I brought up some things I probably shouldn’t have too, and…huhh.” He sighs heavily. “I’ll call him tomorrow morning before he leaves.”

The pensive look on his face causes Jessica to snuggle herself close to Sam, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Good,” she says firmly. “You need to know. Family is important.” She kisses him on the cheek and strokes back his hair, and Sam is comforted. 

He turns to her and gives her a kiss on the lips, cupping his large hand around her face. She returns the kiss sweetly and after they move apart he murmurs “Thanks, Jess.”

“You’re welcome, Sam.” She stands and tosses the blanket back onto the couch, beckoning with her hand, tone becoming businesslike: “Now what do you say we get some sleep? Need you to be fresh-faced tomorrow morning for your big talk. C’mon, big boy.” 

Sam chuckles and follows her upstairs. “Yes ma’am. I’m right behind you.”

***

Dean pulls into the parking lot of a Red Roof Inn right outside downtown Lebanon… which isn’t saying much; downtown is practically nonexistent. There is literally one street with shops and stuff on it. Why in the hell does Sam like living here? What is there to DO? 

Shaking his head, Dean parks and grabs his duffel bag out of the backseat. He gets a room for the rest of the night, which is about three and a half hours of darkness and then back on the road. How stupid it was for him to come here and spring himself on Sammy like that, he thinks as he lets himself into his room; getting so uptight about Mom…. Dean groans and flops back onto the motel bed for a moment after locking the door behind him. 

He brushes his teeth, scrubbing furiously as he berates himself some more, spitting into the sink and glowering at his reflection in the mirror. What an idiot he is. Chucking his boots across the room one after the other, he sits heavily on the side of the bed before losing his jeans too and tossing them over a chair. Rolling over, Dean grabs a pillow and stuffs it between the bedclothes, his arm, and his head, not even bothering to get underneath the blankets. It isn’t worth it for only a few hours. Muttering epithets to himself, he closes his eyes.

~

Waking up to a loud banging on his door, Dean groans. Had he forgotten to hang the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign up when he came in last night? Dammit. “Go away!” He roars as the knocking continues. “I’ve got an eleven am checkout! No clean required!” After a couple more knocks, it is quiet. Thank god. Dean drops his face back into the pillow, but the second his eyes drift closed once more, his phone rings. Shit. 

Flopping his arm around, Dean finally latches onto his phone and flips it open, putting it to his ear. He expects it to be his father, checking to see if he is on schedule. Whatever the schedule is that John Winchester expects, which he would never verbally articulate; simply expecting his son to _know_. “Dean Winchester,” Dean groans into the receiver. “What?”

There is a pause and then an amused huff of breath. “Wow, Dean. You’re doing a great job of impersonating a Walker.”

“Sammy?” Dean grunts and rolls into a sitting position, scrubbing his hand across his face. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, D, I—”

Instantly on his feet and on alert, Dean is reaching for his clothes, body twanging with nerves. “What’s wrong?” He raps out.

A sigh. “Nothing’s wrong, Dean. I’m fine, I just…I wanted to know why else you came to town. Usually if it’s just about Mom, you call me. And I know it’s not just about a car part, either, ‘cause you would’ve gone straight to California if that was your goal. So what’s going on?”

Smart kid, as always. Dean stops reaching for his clothes in worry about his brother's well-being, but “Look, it’s no big deal,” he tries.

“Uh-unh. Don’t give me that crap. I’m not leaving until you tell me why you’re here.” Dean squints and draws his face back from the phone in confusion. There is another explosive sigh. “…Open your door, Dean.”

“The hell?” Dean goes to the door and undoes the bolt, yanking it open. In the grey early-morning light, leaning against the hood of the Impala where Dean had parked across from his room, is Sam holding a cellphone against his ear. He ends the call and stands upright, striding closer to his big brother. Dean rolls his eyes at the theatrics. “Sam—”

“Just tell me what you’re doing here.” Sam sticks his hands into his pockets and ducks his head to study the other’s face. “Tell me and I’ll let you go. What’d you leave out when we talked last night?”

Dean licks his lips, snaps his own phone closed, and sighs with a shoulder-roll of defeat. “I’ve missed you, okay?” He says finally. “You and the kid. I know Dad does too, even though he doesn’t say anything. An’ I wanted to see if you wanna come with me.”

“To California?” Sam asks with a tiny smile. “Isn’t that kinda cliché, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes and looks away. “Ha-ha. To Cali and back to Lawrence, after—I was thinkin’ of driving up to Wisconsin to see Adam.” He wipes a hand over his lips and Sam stares. “What?” Dean snaps, growing defensive and therefore irritated as his eyes return to Sam’s. “I want both of my brothers to come home for Christmas! Sue me!” Sam smiles at his feet as Dean angrily huffs in response to being forced to give his reasons. The older man folds his arms across his chest and curls his toes inward, trying manfully not to shiver as a chill wind has just come up. “ _Well?_ ” Dean demands.

“Okay,” Sam responds simply, hazel eyes dancing as they catch and hold Dean’s.

Dean’s eyebrows draw together. “‘Okay’, what?”

“Okay, that’s all I wanted to know,” Sam says brightly. “It’s not like I was pulling out your teeth, Dean. Was that seriously so hard for you to tell me?” He laughs as the only reply he receives is a glare. It's so much fun to wind his brother up sometimes. Not to mention ridiculously easy. “...And yes,” he adds more seriously now. “I’ll come with you to California, and to see Adam after. I just need to stop back by my place to pack.” He turns to walk away from his now-dumbfounded older brother and calls over his shoulder: “Oh Dean, you might want to put some pants on.”

Dean looks down at himself and swears. A couple of the other residents at the motel have started to wake now, and he is perfectly framed in his door: black shirt, navy boxer-briefs, and nothing else. Sam laughs aloud, pearly whites flashing as he ducks into his truck. Dean bobs his head and waves to everyone with a wide fake smile that melts into a scowl as he slams his door after swiftly ducking back inside his room.

After the door is once again closed, Dean leans against it and pumps his fist in victory. One down, one to go. Awesome. “Don’t worry, Dad,” he mutters out loud, despite the fact that no one else is listening. “This year we’ll all be comin' back home.”


	3. Vacation.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to take this vacation?” Sam asks worriedly. “I mean, it’s the month before Winter Break – you’re gonna have a lot on your plate, Jess.”

“It’ll be fine, Sam,” she soothes. “Plus, I think you need this. The kids won’t kill me. Go, have a fun road trip with your brother. I’ll be right here waiting when you get back.”

Sam looks at her gratefully. “What would I do without you?” He asks.

“Crash and burn,” she chuckles as she pulls him in for a kiss. 

He is so glad he had asked her to go steady before going to see Dean that morning; well, actually she had asked him what they were doing and he said “Um, going together, I hope. Otherwise this is – awkward.” And she had thrown her head back and laughed.

“I can’t believe you actually just used that phrase! It’s not 1900 anymore, Sam.” But stroking his cheek after the teasing, Jessica had added “But I’d be more than happy to, ah, what is it? Oh yeah - ‘go steady’ with you.”

Sam grins at her now as he packs, folding up a couple of flannel shirts and stuffing them into his suitcase before taking a pair of jeans Jessica offers him. “…I should probably tell Adam that we’re coming,” he says, rolling his tongue over his lower lip. “I mean, the guy is studying to get into medical school—he doesn’t need any crazy familial surprises putting him off his game.” Sam’s hands still as he thinks of what will happen when Dean sees Adam. How is _that_ gonna go?

Jessica hands over some socks and nudges his midriff with her elbow. “So, tell him. It’s gonna be fine. And you can always text or call me if you need to talk.”

The tall man heaves out a steadying breath and nods. “Yeah, I know.” He tries to convince himself that it’ll be okay. Thank god he can talk to her. Jessica leans into his side, providing some much-needed comfort and Sam smiles into her eyes. She knows him so well; he is incredibly lucky.

They are lost in each other for a minute until Sam hears banging on the front door and his brother’s voice yelling “Move it, Sammy! We’re burning daylight, c’mon!”

Sam sighs as Jessica squeezes his arm and exits the bedroom to go open the door for Dean. He stuffs a book, his bag of toiletries, and several pairs of underwear into the case. He looks around the room and settles his shoulders, steeling himself for whatever lies ahead – particularly with his father. “Coming!” He calls back, and turns off the light before taking his bag in hand and jogging down the stairs. Jessica kisses him on the cheek as Dean waits impatiently by the door.

“You take care of yourself, Sam,” she says.

“I will.”

“It was great to meet ya, Jessica,” Dean nods at her with approval. “Somebody’s gotta keep Sasquatch here in line.” He ruffles Sam’s hair and receives an elbow-jab in return.

“You too, Dean,” Jess smiles and waves to them as they step over the threshold and onto the porch. “You boys have fun!”

“Oh, no doubt,” Dean assures her as they head down the front steps. “Lemme get that bag for you, Mary Poppins,” he says to Sam. “Where’s your magical umbrella-bird, huh?” Sam groans and glances over his shoulder at Jess, who smiles and pats the air with her hands, encouraging him to breathe. She blows him a kiss and he relaxes.

“Chim-chimney chim-chimney chim-chim chiree,” Sam sings as his brother unlocks the car: “A sweep is as lucky as lucky can be!”

“Oh god,” the eldest mutters as they toss their bags into the back and duck inside. “Now I’m never gonna get that damn song out of my head.”

Sam guffaws and jabs his finger at his brother several times before buckling his seatbelt. “You started this. You started it.”

Dean shakes his head and looks down, hiding his answering smile as he turns the key in Baby’s ignition, letting the engine purr for several minutes before he turns the wheel rapidly, looking through the rear-view mirror for other cars. 

They pull out of Sam’s neighborhood and onto the highway, Dean instantly turning the radio dial and fiddling with the knob until the guitar strumming of Bob Seger travels through the car. “Come on, Dean –seriously? Don’t ‘Night Moves’ me!”

_Little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds—_

Dean clicks his tongue and jerks his chin sideways. “One of the greatest rock writers of all time, Samuel.”

“It’s Sam.”

~

Sam catches his brother glancing sideways at him as they get on Interstate 80 and head west. Dean looks like he is trying really hard to figure something out; or like he cannot believe that Sam is really here. 

Sam honestly can’t quite believe it himself. Luckily he has vacation and sick days that he has never used – two years’ worth – and he had emailed the principal of his school with interim lesson plans. Plus Jess said she would cover his classes for him, not to worry. Yeah, right. Sure. If he’s not worrying about that, he will worry about where he is going. He sighs and looks out the window. Blinking and clearing his throat, he hears Dean speak. “…What?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he looks over. “I SAID, things seem to be goin’ pretty well for you. I mean, Jessica, woof. How did _that_ happen? Like I said, she seems pretty far outta your league.”

“And what does that mean, Dean?”

Dean lifts his fingers up from where he is holding the steering wheel with a sneaking grin. “Uh, she’s hot? Girl’s got legs for days.” He nudges his little brother. “How’d you two meet? Seriously. And don’t say ‘at the library’.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Classic Dean. “For your information, we met in college, okay? Both of us started with different majors but ended up on the education track.” He shrugs with his face soft. “We had some classes together, and then we both ended up getting hired by the same charter school. Now we’re co-teachers. Which is great.”

Dean waves his right hand, beckoning for more information. “Yeah, and? When did the living arrangements happen? Seems pretty serious, Sam.”

Sam lifts his eyes. “No, that—that’s not what it ... That's not what happened. We were working late last night, she came over, and we… we went to bed.” Dean smirks. Sam closes his eyes in horror at the obvious connotation of his own words. “No, I - I asked her to be my girlfriend this morning, and she’s watching my place while I’m gone because it’s convenient, and closer to work, and – this is ridiculous.” Sam pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Dean. I really like her. That’s all.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Dean scrunches up his features and then his face smooths out with a satisfied nod. “Okay then.”

His brother stares askance at him. “…O _kay_ then?”

“What d’ya want me to say? I’m happy for you, Sammy.”

“So what was with the interrogation?”

Dean raises up all of his fingers, steadying the wheel with his thumbs and palms. “Hey, you were the one that started freakin’ out and volunteering information. I just asked how you two met and ya spazzed.” He chuckles. “Ahhh, classic.”

Sam stares at Dean incredulously. Wow. “Okay, fine. What’s going on with you, then? Still getting with every girl who needs a new spark plug in her car?”

“Hey, hey,” Dean remonstrates, affronted. “Only the ones with enough intelligence not to fry their own engines. I have standards.”

Sam chuckles. “…Right. So how’s Bobby?”

“He’s fine. As big’a grouch as ever. Said to tell ya he can’t believe they put an idjit in charge of smaller idjits.” This makes Sam laugh out loud. “He’s proud of you,” Dean adds gruffly. “So’m I.” He presses down on the gas pedal and stares hard out of the windshield so as not to make a big deal out of his statement, but Sam’s face softens. He is touched.

“Thanks, Dean.” Swallowing hard, the younger Winchester at last brings up the question he had been dreading to ask: “…How’s Dad?”

Oh, boy.

***

Dean never knows what he should say about their father. He is not clear on whether Sammy actually wants to know all that much; there are sixteen hours between them and Reno, and he doesn’t want a fight to encompass half of that time. Plus he still has to tell Sam they are going to stop off and see Charlie. He is pretty positive his brother will be psyched for that— Sam and Charlie are fellows in nerd together—but there are multiple moving parts here; not in the least whether or not Adam will be as willing as Sam was to go on the road. But here goes nothing.

“You know Dad,” he tells Sam. “He’s the way he’s always been, since Mom. Puts in ten-hour days and doesn’t take lunch. Finally seems to accept Bobby and Rufus havin’ their own shop near ours, which is a relief ‘cause I got tired of bein’ the middleman in a turf war between a used-car lot and a garage with guns blazing.” Sam opens his mouth to speak but Dean waves him away. "—It’s a long story. Anyway, Dad’s workin’ hard as always. And…” he knows this will make his brother’s top blow, but Dean has to say it: “…he’s lookin’ into the possibility of sellin’ the house.”

Wait. “ _What???_ ” Sam sputters. “The house— OUR house? Mom’s house? What – are you two hurting for money, or –?”

“Hell no, Sam, we’re fine. We’re FINE, trust me,” Dean responds shortly. Trying to justify his father’s decision – and figure out the reasoning behind it himself – he continues “But c’mon, it’s a big place. Bigger now that you and Adam are gone, and Dad can’t handle it. ‘S how I know he misses you guys.”

“Why, because he wants to SELL?!” Sam’s voice is loud now. “He’s the one who pushed me, both of us, out of his life! If he really missed us, he’d call, or write, but no—all he’s ever cared about is that garage and getting Mom back. But he can’t have her, so he…” his voice cracks from strain.

“I know, Sam,” Dean replies grimly.

“This is ridiculous, Dean! And selfish! And I bet you just went along with the idea of him selling because you’re the ‘good son’.”

“Whoa, hold on a damn minute—"

"Am I wrong?" His brother demands. “Tell me right now if you said anything, because you never do! No, you just let him—” Sam’s eyes are full of angry tears now, overlaying pain. “—you just let him walk all over you. You let him win.”

“How dare you,” Dean growls. “I friggin LOVE that house! I was born in that house, and Mom – we kept it for her. It’s part of the family, man. You fell out of the tree in front of the upstairs window and broke your arm… Adam learned three-point-turns in the driveway.” Dean’s voice catches and he pounds on the steering wheel in fury. “I told him, ‘don’t you do it, Dad. It’d kill me.’ But he wasn’t listening, man. I wanted him to listen—hell, I wish I…” he stops and swallows, blinks. “You always know what you want. Stand up to Dad.” _I can’t._ He clears his throat. “Anyway,”

“That’s why you came to get me,” Sam whispers, understanding, all of his anger gone. “To bring me back, me and Adam. So we can have one more Christmas at the house.”

Dean coughs but doesn’t deny it. “Yeah, well, since there’s no way I can think of to convince him not to sell, I wanted us to at least have another decent Christmas.” Sam looks over at him. “What?” the eldest snaps irritably.

Sam shakes his head. “Nothing, Tin Man. It’s just nice to know you _do_ have a heart.”

“Oh, shut up.”

After a stretch of silence, Sam clears his throat. "So. What else is going on?"

Dean flicks his eyes over to check his left-hand mirror as he changes lanes, licking his lips. "I'm glad you asked that, Sammy, 'cause I've got some work for us in Reno."

"...Reno?" Sam draws his head backwards with apprehension. "- What did you do, Dean?"

"Nothin yet, but I gotta meet up with Charlie. Her band's on tour in a big Itasca bus and she asked if I'd come take a look at it to be on the safe side. And she's been jonesin' to see you, always asks how you are."

Sam smiles broadly, relief and excitement mingled in his reply. "Really? That's --that's great. Yeah, I'd love to see her."

Dean bobs his head in satisfaction. "Awesome, because I wasn't askin'." His eyes narrow and he parts his lips for a second before shaking his head a little and adding "Wait. What did you think I did?"

"Ah, well, ha." Sam lets out a breathy awkward chuckle. "I just ...okay, you're so gung-ho about driving all over the place to get the family back together this year, I just... I wondered if there could be a girl with a baby somewhere." Dean slowly swivels his head to stare at his brother. Sam shrugs.

"Fair enough," Dean smacks his lips and thinks. "But there isn't, okay? Least I haven't been informed about it. But I _have_ had some crazy nights." He slaps Sam on the arm and raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam lifts both of his hands as though he can physically bat away his older brother's words. He closes his eyes and scrunches up his face in horror. "Please, no. I can't handle hearing about any of your --conquests, D."

"You sure? I could give ya some pointers to use with Jessica...,"

Sam's eyes shoot open in panic. "Dude, no!"

Dean shrugs. "It's your loss, Sam. Because lemme tell ya, I've got--"

" _Dean._ "

The eldest chuckles as he studies the other's stiff profile before deciding to drop it and take pity on the guy. Hasn't seen him in a while, but cannot get in ALL the ribbing at once; it needs to be spread out so Sam won't know what is coming.

***

Sam gets Dean to let him drive on the second leg of their trip to Reno. Just like old times, he figures as he glances at the other conked out in the passenger seat. Dean's head is tipped way back, snores reverberating around the Impala's interior. Obviously he had not gotten good sleep the night before, or likely for several nights previously. His features are slightly pallid, and the stubble on his chin is rough and uneven. Clearly he had not shaved.

Sam had noticed superficial differences in his brother's face before, but now that Dean is still and sleeping beside him, the younger man notices deeper wear on his big brother's features. There are more lines around his eyes and mouth; just a few, but Sam's jaw sets hard with worry. 

How rough ARE things at home? Would Dean tell him? Probably not; he should have reached out, been the bigger person. Instead it was Dean who'd done that, coming through Lebanon to see him. His brother has always seen family as the most important thing; the cure-all for every setback in life. Dean has always been that way, as long as Sam can remember. He had always been loyal, to the point that he was willing to deal with everything their father did or said in order to keep the peace... Well, to keep it as best he could.

Until he was not able to anymore.

Sam had managed to get all the necessary information together and applied to colleges on his own. He applied for, and received, a full ride scholarship to Stanford. He broke the news: not only was he leaving the city he had grown up in, but the state...and, well, that conversation had not gone great; and things had only gotten worse since.

[...]

 _"Don't you walk away from us, son. Don't you know what your leaving will do to this family?"_ his father demanded that night.

"I don't care," Sam had said, voice thick with and full of emotion. "I'm not doing this for our family, Dad. I'm not doing it to HURT the family either. I'm doing this for me."

"Oh, well that's just fine, then," John had snarled at him. "Go ahead and leave, Sam--there's no way I can protect you when you're out there!"

"Protect me from what?" Sam's voice had cracked as he spread out his arms. "House fires? Muggings? Getting busted for tax evasion? No. I know what you want - to 'protect' me by making sure I always follow your orders instead of thinking for myself!"

"Sam, stop," Dean had begged, eyes wide, horrified as he physically tried to step in, taking his younger brother by the shoulders and looking back at his dad. "C'mon, don't do this -- please."

...But Sam had pulled away and John shouted after him: "Fine! Go ahead and think for yourself!!" His tone was caustic. Sam can still hear it. And the next words are crystal-clear: "But if you walk out that door, don't you EVER come back! You hear me?!"

"Dad," Dean's eyes had been huge. "You don't-- you can't mean that. Come on. Sam--"

Sam had blinked and nodded; felt weight settle onto his shoulders as he hesitated, felt a pit open in his stomach and ice form around his heart as he snapped "I hear you." He grabbed his bags and threw back, "Goodbye, Dad." Hoisting one up higher on his shoulder, Sam pulled open the door into the chill Kansas night. He hears his heartbeat as it sounded then, feels the cool heft of the iron doorknob as he stepped on to the porch and slammed the door behind him.

Will Dad even let him set foot on the property if he comes back now? Sam does not know, but he cannot let Dean down. Not after he had not even bothered to tell his older brother good-bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam sings a bit of Bert's dialogue from _Mary Poppins_. Long live Dick Van Dyke! :)
> 
> And yes, there is a bit of a reference to "Baby" - 11x04 in this chapter, as well as a lyric from Bob Seger's immortal song "Night Moves" which was featured in that excellent episode. 
> 
> (I will include a larger list of referenced episodes at the end of this work, because I already worked in a scene from the Pilot and some of Bobby's dialogue from "No Rest for the Wicked" and "Lucifer Rising" in the previous chapters.)
> 
> I am very aware of teacher pay, use of vacation days, and various other aspects of the American education system. There is probably no school in the country that would just let a teacher leave for a month without notice, even if he left oodles of lesson plans behind for a substitute. However, I hope my readers will allow for artistic license. And I have Sam working at a charter school, which does have different rules and regulations.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment on this work - I love hearing my readers' thoughts!


	4. Reno.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have a heart-to-heart, meet up with Charlie and her band, reconnect with some old friends, and make a few new ones.

The brothers make it to Reno by driving through the night of November the second, not stopping until early in the morning of the third briefly for breakfast and coffee. Dean calls Charlie with their estimated time of arrival.

"Wow, Dean, you got here FAST — even for you and your maniac driving! Did you not stop for sleep or... anything?"

Dean grins and tosses off "Eh well I had a little help with the driving."

"More like a _lot_ of help," a second voice cuts in on Dean's end. "Don't let him put one over on ya, he's not THAT big a badass. Hey Charlie." Dean scoffs and jerks the phone away from his ear to put it on speaker as a shrill scream erupts from the receiver.

"S _am???_ is that you? Oh, it's so good to hear your voice! It's like the gang getting back together! So many feels. Whoo. Okay, I'm okay. Breathe, Charlie, breathe." She counsels herself.

Sam glances over at Dean. "...Did she just refer to herself in the third person?"

Dean shrugs and lifts a hand. "Dude, I don't even know. It's Charlie."

She lets out another excited shout. "It's gonna be so good to see you! I can't wait!" The brothers hear some garbled words on her end, and she says "Oh, okay. -...gotta go guys, but I'll see you soon."

"Okay, Charlie."

"Bye Charlie," Sam and Dean speak at the same time, their words overlapping, and then the call clicks off.

Dean shakes his head and puts his cell away with a fond chuckle at Charlie and her excitement. Sam smiles as well and looks over at him. "So...," The younger man says, affecting nonchalance, "Didja have a good nap, Dean? I mean, you were _out_. I could've played 'Waterloo' on repeat and you wouldn't have woken up."

"No," Dean gasps, eyes bulging and a look of utter horror on his face as he freezes. "Tell me you didn't profane my Baby with ABBA. You didn't, did you?" Sam's eyes dance mischievously but he does not answer. "Oh it's the silent treatment, huh?" Dean smacks his lips and nods as he looks out the window. "That's nice. Real classy, Sammy."

His brother smirks.

~

They pull the Impala into a parking lot not long later. Charlie had texted the address of the lot and building to Sam's phone along with a message: _'S — glad ur here. C :)'_. He and Dean had switched places again, and Dean puts the car in Park as they stop. He keeps the radio on as Sam texts back to say that he and his brother have arrived.

"Charlie says she and the band are less than twenty minutes out," Sam informs his brother. And so they wait, Sam tapping his thumb against the window and then the dashboard.

Eventually Dean sighs and deliberately turns his head. "Is there somethin' on your mind?" He asks. When Sam shrugs and shakes his head no, the eldest adds "C'mon man, you can't fool me. I know you, and something's eating atcha right now, I can tell. Out with it."

Sam swallows and sighs. His older brother may not be the biggest fan of heartfelt conversations, but he always knows when Sam needs to talk something out. "It's Adam," he eventually admits. "He and Dad — well, they're probably on better terms than Dad and I are, which isn't really saying much." Dean huffs. "I just wonder if we should — I don't know — give Adam a heads up that we're coming to see him, that you and Dad want us all at the house for Christmas. Dad IS on board with all this, right?" The eldest suddenly seems to find the console incredibly interesting. He leans in and turns up the radio, absorbing the music. Sam raises his eyebrows even as his heart drops. Oh, no. "...Dean?"

Dean clears his throat and hums along to the song on the radio:

_... Like the pine trees lining the windin' road, I've got a name, I've got a name._  
_Like the singin' bird and the croakin' toad I've got a name, I've got a name._  
_And I carry it with me like my daddy did—but I'm livin' the dream that he kept hid...  
Moving me down the highway, rollin' me down the highway! Hopin' this whole life won't pass me by_

__

__

"—You didn't tell Dad, did you?" Sam shakes his head and scoffs, long hair flying about his face. _Unbelievable._ "Jeez, Dean. You know that's gonna go over like a lead balloon, right? What were you thinking?!"

Expelling an enormous breath and tired of Sam acting like he does not think about anything, Dean snaps "I was thinking that I wanted to surprise him, Sam! Is that really so bad?"

"Uh, with Dad, yeah. You know how he is with surprises." Again Sam hears those fateful words: _If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back._ Blinking and shaking his head to clear it, Sam looks over to see his brother's head bowed, his expression not simply mulish, but despondent. Almost helpless. It worries Sam. 

"I - I know I should've told him," Dean adds softer now, licking his lips. "I just want to give him a good day, Sam. And I can't do it alone."

"Yes you can, Dean. You always stick by Dad. You're there for him; he and I just get into fights and Adam doesn't really say anything."

Dean's shoulder twitches and he looks away. "Yeah, well. Maybe I can, but I don't want to."

The two men look directly at each other then, faces full of a lot of things they cannot or will not voice. Sam feels a warmth and understanding of Dean, while Dean's face is hard and hopeless, yet still strong. He's not giving up on this yet. A loud guitar riff blasts from the speakers, breaking the silence, and Sam winces.

It is then that a deep purple tour bus — with gold stars and a busty lady, wearing leather armor and gazing off into the middle distance, painted on the side — appears. Ah, Charlie.

***

A smile rises to Dean's lips unbidden as the metallic behemoth turns carefully into the parking lot and comes grinding to a halt. He exits the Impala gratefully, glad as hell to end the previous conversation, and is followed after a second by Sam.

The bus lets out a hiss as it settles to a stop on wheels and chassis, and then the door is flying open and a blur of arms and legs and long red hair is exiting airborne, wrapping the eldest Winchester in a flying tackle-hug. “Hey, Charlie—long time no see,” Dean grunts and staggers back a bit on impact, wrapping his arms around the petite redhead, her large eyes alight with pleasure as Dean kisses her on the side of the head and strokes her hair before she lets go of him and moves to hug Sam.

“Hey Charlie,” Sam beams at her as he gives her a big hug as well, his long arms and large body practically engulfing hers.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Sam and Dean Winchester. Howdy, boys!” drawls an amused slightly rough female voice. Dean looks up to see a middle-aged woman with long straight brown hair leaning in the open doorway of the bus, with a younger one sporting a pale oval face and wavy blonde hair grinning behind her.

Sam relinquishes Charlie and looks up to her with shock stamped across his face. Dean grins in satisfaction at keeping this secret from his brother just to see the priceless look on his face. It’s awesome. “ _Ellen?_ ”

She comes down the steps now, moving quickly to hug each of them. “Sam – how’re you doin’, darlin’? Hey Dean.”

“It’s good to see you, Ellen.” Dean gives her a tight hug and then waves to the younger woman. “How’s it going, Jo?”

Jo, for that is who the blonde is, lifts her chin and her eyebrows in greeting. “What’s up, Dean? Oh, you know,” She tips her head elaborately towards her mother’s back, twirling a finger in the universal signal for crazy. Dean bites back a laugh, glancing over to see Ellen cupping his brother’s face in her hands briefly.

Charlie gasps and waves her hands around. “Oh! I’ve gotta introduce you to the rest of the party –come on out, guys!” She beckons into the recesses of the bus and two teenage girls by the looks of them, a mom-type – in a flannel shirt, Dean notices, nice – and two guys pop their heads out.

The first man is… “Stylin’ and profilin’, the Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie returns,” Dean crows. “Dr. Badass, how are ya?”

“Dean!” The man, wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off, his mousy mullet bouncing as he pumps the older man’s hand, grins. “Sam and Dean! ‘S good to see ya.”

“Ash,” Sam smiles and shakes his hand as well. “You part of the band, buddy?”

“Oh hell no,” Ash barks out a laugh. “You kidding, Sam? Think I can SING? Naw, me’n Kevin here are the roadies. And the muscle.” Everyone stares at him and the short, slight man beside him – at second glance, he looks even younger than the two teen girls, Dean thinks; though he may just have one of those faces. He has short black hair and slightly darker skin. Olive, if that’s the word – Dean has no clue. Ash squeezes the kid to him in a side-hug and the other bears it pretty well. Dean is impressed. “Well c’mon Kev, say hey to everyone! These are our good pals Sam an’ Dean Winchester.”

“Hello,” the dark-haired kid says, looking a trifle pop-eyed. “My name’s Kevin Tran. I’m in Advanced Placement.”

“He’s always sayin’ that,” Ash guffaws. “He IS pretty smart –gives even me a run for my money!” He tousles Kevin’s hair with affection.

“...And _these_ lovely young ladies are my band-mates Alex and Claire,” Charlie introduces. 

Alex has dark, intelligent eyes in a heart-shaped face framed by long black hair. Claire, on the other hand, is a towheaded child. Dark eyeliner makes her distrustful blue gaze pop out as she looks Sam and Dean up and down.

“Mmph.” She utters. “We’ve got David Hasselhoff and Jolly Green Giant here to check out whether or not the bus works? Seriously? I’m not impressed.”

“Claire,” the third woman speaks, mom-voice in full effect if Dean has ever heard one: “There’s no need to be disrespectful.”

“No it’s all right,” Dean assures, holding out a hand as he walks over to Claire and gestures for her to come over to his car. “Want to take a look at my credentials, Miley Cyrus?”

Alex snorts in amusement as Claire bites her lower lip, eyes flashing. Dean saunters over to his trunk and unlocks it to reveal his toolbox, oil tank, and four-post lift folded and stuffed into the back. The young blonde strides over, giving him a sidelong look as she bends over to study the equipment, braid swinging forward from where it had been tucked behind her right ear. She looks the box over, picking up tools and puffing out her lips with an eventual nod. “Well played, Hasselhoff. Well played.”

“Mechanics are always prepared, sweetheart,” Dean responds with a wink as he closes up the trunk. “Glad to have your approval.”

There are several throat-clearings in response to this. Sam’s eyes widen and he shakes his head warningly at Dean, who closes his eyes and drops his head as he realizes how those words came out. Claire smirks at him as the woman who had admonished her beckons. The blonde girl rolls her eyes but complies, and the woman moves between her and Dean. “Jody Mills, sheriff from South Dakota. I am very handy with a gun and the sex offender database, so if I were you, I’d be careful what you say to my girls. Dean, right?” She raises her brows and crosses both arms over her chest.

Dean blinks and purses his lips, discomfited. He had recognized the way he spoke sounded a bit too familiar, and if someone did not know better, they would assume he was flirting with Claire. Which he was definitely not; that is completely inappropriate. “Uh, yeah. Yes ma’am,” he answers respectfully, looking her in the eye despite his embarrassment. “I completely understand.”

“Good.” Jody nods and shifts her focus off his face to shake hands with Sam.

Dean blows out a poof of air from both cheeks and backs up towards the bus as he shakes his head at himself. “She’s tough,” he vocalizes to no one in particular, but a low gravelly voice answers him:

“Yes. She is an excellent guardian to both Alex and Claire,” the words emanate from over Dean’s right shoulder.

“Jeez—!” he jerks forward and whips around to stare at the person who spoke. A man with dark, messy hair and piercingly bright blue eyes, wearing a sharp business suit and trench coat with a cockeyed blue tie, stands demurely next to the now-shut bus door. “Who the hell are you?”

“You seem rather startled. It was not my intention to unsettle you. My apologies. I am the bus driver for the Moondor Maidens band. My name is Castiel.” He holds out his hand to shake as he speaks formally.

Dean takes it. “Castiel, huh? I’m Dean.”

Castiel’s eyes twinkle with what might be a hint of amusement, but his tone remains solemn. “Yes, I know. I heard.”

Right. Dean relinquishes the other’s hand and scrunches his lips slightly upward. “Uh, how come we didn’t get introduced? You didn’t come outta the bus with the others.”

“I had to ensure the bus still has enough petrol and that the air brakes were properly engaged before exiting the vehicle. As the driver my first priority is to ensure my passengers’ safety. And then I heard the short conversation that occurred between you and Claire.” He pauses, seeming to choose his next words carefully. Honestly, he seems to choose _all_ his words carefully. Dean is baffled by that; it’s like the man had swallowed a dictionary. “Claire does not—deal well with strangers. Or authority.” Both glance over at the young blonde, who is currently standing next to Jody and looking disgruntled by something the older woman said. 

Dean notices Castiel’s intent expression, squinting eyes with a hint of something like concern in them. He connects the dots. “You care about Claire, don’t you? So you’re here watchin’ out for her.”

The other nods. “…Yes. She was left in my charge by her father years ago. It is my duty to protect her.”

“I can respect that.” Dean clears his throat and smacks his lips. “And, uh – I get it. That’s how I am with my little brother. Brothers.” He looks over at Sam as the younger man talks to Jo and Charlie and Ash. He also introduces himself individually to Kevin, and the little guy appears transfixed by Sam’s hulking presence. Dean’s mouth lifts in a tiny grin before he figures he ought to get down to business. “So, Cas, will ya let me take a look at your bus?”

The dark-haired driver squints. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your bus, man. It’s the reason I brought my tools with me. I’m a mechanic, do work on big rigs. Said I’d take a look at this one as a favor to Charlie.” He looks at the other with a half-smile. “So whaddaya say?”

Castiel squints at Dean even harder, if that is possible, and then catches Charlie’s eye. She nods and gives them an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Dean stands leaning back on his heels with affected nonchalance, waiting for the other guy to make a decision. He seems pretty uptight but says “I – can help you fetch and carry your toolbox, I suppose.”

Dean grins. “Fantastic. This a-way.” He leads the other to his car with a grand sweep of one arm.

~

Meanwhile, a large Chevy Suburban has just pulled into the parking lot and a light-haired head leans out of the driver’s side window. “What’s the holdup, Jodio?” a voice with a Minnesota accent lightly trills. “I was planning to get us a dinner reservation!”

With a rising head and a smile, Jody goes over to the car. Dean sees her indicate him as he goes around to the Impala’s truck and begins to haul his tools out with Castiel’s help; and Sam’s, once the beanpole realizes what is going on.

Dean begins his initial inspection. “This shouldn’t take too long,” He assures Charlie when she comes over. “But if ya need to go somewhere to take a load off or eat or whatever, don’t worry about me. You can take the car—” He offers his keys to her but she waves them away.

“Nah, don’t sweat it, Dean. Donna just gets worried if anything unexpected happens ‘cause she thinks she read our itinerary wrong. Besides, I wanted to talk with you, catch up. I see you’ve met Castiel – our resident saint in the face of every idiotic driver and bit of girl drama.”

“I am not anything close to a saint, Charlie,” is Castiel’s gravelly reply as he rolls Dean's lift over to the bus, “But I appreciate the compliment.”

Dean gets down on his back and rolls himself underneath the hulk of the bus to check its wheels, chassis, and fuel lines. He takes a wrench and checks a few things. “Alright, chassis looks solid.” He taps on the lines with his wrench, making a metallic BOOM, and then checks their exit sockets. “Fuel lines are good…how’s the gas mileage?” He rolls to his feet and nods in approval as the driver gives him the number. “That’s awesome. Hey, Cas, you mind if I have a look inside the bus?”

Castiel blinks for a second in confusion and then responds “Of – of course. This way, Dean. Watch your step,” he advises whilst re-opening the doors. The mechanic nods and follows him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Dean hums along to is "I Got A Name" by the wonderful and gone too soon Jim Croce
> 
> And no, Dean was not intentionally flirting with Claire; he started the joking tone and use of pet names before recognizing that could be taken the wrong way, so he backed off. With Jody's help, haha
> 
> I adore how tough and protective she is of those girls :D and writing any meeting between Dean and Cas makes me really happy


	5. Bus Stop.

Dean looks around the interior of the vehicle and whistles. “Man, I have got to get into a band and get me one of these!” The floor is a shiny matted surface with two built-in tables, one on each side. Next to them is a couch, a TV, and a compartment takes up half of the remaining aisle.

“That is a sound booth,” Castiel informs him. “Custom-made, or so I am told. Charlie has done many different things to procure enough funds for this bus, band, and tour.”

“Hopefully most of ‘em were legal,” Dean mutters. Castiel’s eyebrows rise. “Uh yeah, damn right – she’s a Renaissance woman.” He tears his eyes away from the packed instruments that he just noticed. “Holy shit, is that a SOUND BOARD?” Dean gasps, spotting a heavy-looking metal box with colored lights blinking and slides, buttons, et cetera extending across its surface. “This is—this is friggin incredible, Castiel!”

“…Dean,” the other asks slowly, “Why did you call me Castiel then, when minutes ago you called me Cas?”

Dean blinks. “Oh. I—heh, I guess I wasn’t thinkin’ and I gave you a nickname, man. Is that cool?”

“I do not know what a shortened version of my name has to do with temperature, Dean. I would say that I feel a little warm at the moment.”

Dean stares. Is this guy serious? “No, I mean—asking if something’s ‘cool’ that means is it okay with you if I called you by a …shorter version of your name?”

“Oh. Then yes, that is perfectly all right.”

“Well, good.” Dean opens his eyes wide and mouths _‘wow’_ before shaking his head and asking “Will ya show me to the wheel well, Cas?”

“Yes.” The dark-haired man leads the way to the back of the bus, past a trio of triple-decker bunk beds.

***

Sam watches his brother converse with the guy in the suit before they go to check on the condition of the bus. He stays with the knot of band-mates and roadies supervised by Jody and Ellen. Donna, the lady arriving in her Suburban, offers to take Alex, Claire, Ash, and Kevin to a nearby restaurant after Jody explains what is going on. “Charlie wants to be on the uber-safe side, as do I, so I understand.” the sheriff says.

“Okie-dokie, here we go – I fancy getting something to eat. Anybody up for pancakes?”

“Please,” Alex begs, pulling her hood up a little higher on her shoulders. “If I have to hear one more of Claire’s conspiracy theories I might throw myself under the bus. Give her pancakes so she’ll shut up.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Fine. Don’t believe me, but when monsters show up and drag you out of your bed one night, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Alex dramatically clasps her hands together against her chest. "You're right, I'll be screaming as I get dragged away: 'Oh, Claire, you were right!!!'"

"Sarcasm is a disease, and you are super infected with it," Claire shoots back. The other girl smirks.

“Oh I know – I got it from you, though, so you’re gonna die first.” Alex tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder.

Claire scrunches up her face. “Real nice.”

“Um, guys,” Kevin speaks up. “…I don’t know about you, but I for one am going stir-crazy cooped up in that thing.” He nods at the bus. “So if we could just go somewhere, ANYwhere, to get away from it for a bit, that’d be great.”

Ellen smiles at the young man and pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll get outta here. Pancakes sound real good right about now.” She looks over at Sam. “You wanna come with us or stay here with your brother?”

Sam glances after Charlie, who had followed Dean and the driver onto the bus, and then back at the others. His stomach growls and decides for him. “I’m good with pancakes,” he says. “I’ll just text Dean and let him know where we’re going.”

“Excellent, hop in.” Jody smiles at him and Donna unlocks the car doors.

“I’m gonna stick around here, make sure nothin’ happens to our equipment,” Ash drawls as Jo, Alex, and Kevin climb into the very back of the Suburban. Claire flips him a lazy salute as she and Ellen take seats in the middle row. Sam smiles awkwardly as he hauls his large body into the middle row as well, taking the seat on the far right.

“Everybody in?” Jody asks as she steps up into the cab beside Donna. “Seatbelts on. That includes you, Claire. Alright, to the International House of Pancakes –let’s roll!”

~

“So, how did you all end up in this band together?” Sam asks as they drive to the nearest IHOP.

“Well, it all started when Charlie began comin’ to the Roadhouse,” says Ellen. She nudges the Winchester man with a smile from where she sits beside him. “Kinda like you and your brother used to do, Sam.”

He nods, remembering.

[…]

 _"Don't be such a girl, Sam. Just siddown and I'll getcha a milkshake or something, okay?"_ Dean had led him to a booth in the back of a restaurant and bar.

Sam recalls a dark wood-panelled room and the clacking of pool balls striking against each other. He was twelve or so the first time he had gotten into a big shouting match with their father, and his brother drove them out of town to that place, called the Roadhouse, to give him ample time to cool off. Dean had gone over to talk to Ellen, leaving Sam to pillow his face on his arms, still seething with rage at first but then blinking back tears.

“Hey," he had heard a voice beside him. “Don’t worry, it’s not THAT bad a haircut."

“What?” Sam looked up into a pair of bright brown eyes, framed by blonde wavy locks. 

“Your haircut. That’s what you’re upset about, right?”

“No! No, I – I got in a fight with… someone… but it’s nothing.” He had trailed off, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he glanced over to where his big brother was now leaning against the bar. He looked back to the girl then, who looked about his own age, maybe a little older. “Wait, do I have a really bad haircut?”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry, my mistake. Not if you like it. I’m Jo Harvelle.”

“Sam Winchester. That’s my brother Dean over there.”

She nodded and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam. Mind if I sit down?”

“Uhm, no. Not at all.” She was pretty, and nice – well, about as nice as Dean was, giving him crap about his haircut. Made him feel better, anyway. He moved over a bit and she sat.

“Thanks. My mom’s forcing me to bus tables.” She waved a rag he had not noticed her holding before and sneaked a look back over her shoulder, chin rising toward the woman Dean was still talking to. Lowering her voice, “I hate busing,” Jo confessed. “The old guys who come in here are always spilling their beer.”

“Gross,” Sam said, wrinkling his nose. “Wait, does your mom OWN this place?”

“Yep. Her name’s Ellen. She’s the lady talking to your brother.”

Sam recalls Dean coming over with a pair of milkshakes after that, and then brings himself back to the present to hear Ellen continue speaking: “—Charlie and Jo got to know each other really well, and then Jody and a friend of hers started showing up.”

“After I did,” Alex adds, nodding to Sam as he glances back at her. The girl's tone is matter-of-fact as she adds “My family did some... not great things. Like, in-jail-for-the-rest-of-your-life-if-you-get-caught things. On par with murder. And they made me, well, Mama asked if I would help them. So I did, for a long time. They were my _family_. And then I - I just couldn't do it anymore. So I left, and” 

“- became the best dishwasher the Roadhouse has ever had,” finishes Jo. She nudges Alex and the other leans gratefully into her with a slight smile.

“That’s really good,” Sam replies, genuine relief suffusing his voice. Even without specifics, he can tell that wherever and whatever Alex had come from, it was bad. It is good that she got out of it, and made it into the lives of some of the best people he knows. “But what happened? Did your family find out that you left?”

“Well, we had always moved around a lot.” Alex says. 

Jo lets out a sardonic snort. “That sounds like a fantastic childhood.”

“Oh yeah, the best,” Alex responds, tone caustic.

“—Which is why I got red-flagged when she eventually told me about it,” Says Ellen. “And then who should come in but Jody, out on patrol, and when I found out she was a cop, things just sorta fell into place.”

“I was able to look into the Joneses,” Jody tosses back. “Regular police work, nothing too special.”

“…It was for me,” Alex dissents quietly. “You made sure I didn’t have to go back to them.”

Sam sees the sheriff’s face soften in the rear-view mirror as she blows a kiss back to Alex, who returns it. “Well, we checked up on places for Alex to stay, and then once everything was official and she became emancipated from her family,”

“Jody asked me if I wanted to come and live with her. She understands some of the things I was going through, and I’ll never forget what she did.”

Jody waves off her act modestly. “Ah, she needed a home, so we gave her one. Anyone would do the same.” She smiles over at Donna in the driver’s seat, who nods back.

“That’s awesome,” Sam says. It is really great to see the true warmth and affection here. After a moment he shifts around and asks “What about you, Kevin?”

“Oh, I go to school with Alex. Well, I did.”

The dark-haired girl nudges him with fondness. “Yeah, I thought he was pretty cool. And it turns out he’s a whiz with pyrotechnics for our gigs, not to mention a martial arts genius.” Kevin blushes.

“Nice!” Sam whistles appreciatively at the young man before leaning his torso forward and glancing over at Claire, who has gone back to staring out of the window. “And you, Claire?”

“Oh, Claire showed up with her _guardian angel_ one day,” Alex teases.

Claire rolls her eyes. “That’s not what he…mph.” She grumbles half a sentence before clamping her mouth shut.

Sam raises his eyebrows, recognizing brokenness behind the girl’s light eyes as she shoots a look his way. Instantly he apologizes. “I’m sorry, this is really none of my business, and if it upsets you—”

“No, you’re okay, Sam,” Jody soothes. “Claire’s just had a hard go of it. She lost both of her parents, and Castiel, our bus driver, kept a close eye on her before she met us.”

“Jody took her in,” Donna explains. “She’s got a heart of gold, this woman. May leave her manners back at home sometimes, but she took in Claire too, after already having Alex. And I couldn’t say no to that tough, beautiful soul of hers.” The stocky driver nods brightly back at Claire with affection. “She’s a force.”

Claire expels an incredibly deep sigh of seeming exasperation, but Sam notices by a slight softness at the corners of her mouth that the teenager appreciates Donna’s words. At this point they pull into the parking lot of an IHOP and pile out of the car. Donna makes certain that she locks up behind them and Jody grabs the keys. “Don’t leave these. We’ll have a real one-in-a-kind Reno meal tonight, but for now, who’s ready for some pancakes?”

***

Dean checks out the entire interior of the bus carefully, Castiel keeping pace with him and Charlie following. As he tests the hinges on the rear emergency door, his red-haired friend says “Wow, Dean, you’re really good at this stuff. I can see why you love being a mechanic so much – why you stuck around to work with your dad at home.”

Dean leans back a little as he kneels in front of the door. With a final tug on its handle, he wipes his hands on a rag and murmurs “Yeah. Thanks, Charlie. But I, uh, I wanna tell you somethin’.” He sniffs and swipes a knuckle underneath his nose as he leans in closer to her. Castiel goes to the opposite end of the bus to give the two friends a private moment. “…After this job that I’m doin’ for Dad, when I pick up a car part in California and bring it back to him, I’ve been thinkin’ about leaving the garage.” He stands up now with his feet braced and his best gal pal gasps.

“What!? Dean, why? I always thought you loved working at the garage with your dad. Fixing cars – it’s your passion!”

“I do, it is, but uh…I’m leavin’ because of my brothers, Charlie.” Her face grows still and somber as he leans against a bunk bed and explains: “After—after Mom died, Dad went off the rails a bit, until he lost himself in his work. Got buried in it because he was messed up from losing her. I know that, and I get it, because we all were.” Dean sucks in a slow breath, lower lip wobbling briefly as he catches the sight of understanding and empathy in Charlie’s gaze. “I have a feeling you can relate.” He nods at her. “So I stayed to help him, and things were all right for us, but…I realize Adam and Sammy got left out. It’s been me and Dad in one place and both of them in another for years. Even before they left, it kinda felt that way.” The Winchester man swipes angrily at his eyes. Damn emotions. “When Sam left for Stanford, things just got worse. Now we hardly talk. I mean, I call every once in a while, leave messages. Wanted to visit, but nah. It’s been them and us separate. And I want to fix that this year. For the holidays, and for good.” Dean rolls his lips inward and bites down, flicking his gaze up to the ceiling but not focusing on anything. He blinks hard as his chin, his whole face trembles, and he admits “…But I don’t know how, Charlie.” His voice breaks as he looks back at her.

Tears stand in her eyes and mirror his own as she leans against his arm. He rests his head on hers briefly as she replies “That’s such a sweet gesture, Dean. I’m sorry I never knew how hard things were for you guys, but what can I do to help?”

Dean lifts his head away from hers, looking into her face. “Don’t apologize; I never told anyone about this before.” His tone of voice is gruff as he adds “But thank you for listenin’ now, Char. I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, but if I think of something I’ll let you know.” Dean smiles at her, softness suffusing his face and crows’ feet crinkling the outer corners of his eyes as he touches her face with one hand.

They stay like that until Charlie widens her eyes and lifts her shoulders with a whoosh of breath. “Okay, well, what d’ya say we blow this Popsicle stand and meet up with everyone else? Jo said they went to get pancakes.” Dean cocks his eyebrows and draws his face back in confusion, and Charlie takes out her phone. “She sent me a text.”

Dean fumbles in his pocket and pulls out his own phone to find a message from Sam: _'@ IHOP. Help me D, plz.'_ The Winchester chuckles. “Yeah, Sam texted me too, apparently needin’ assistance.” Putting his phone away again, he raises his voice to call “You comin’ to IHOP, Cas? I’ll drive us over.”

Dean and Charlie make their way to and out the front of the bus with Castiel behind them, but before he answers, Ash pops up from a supine position on the Impala’s hood: “Don’t mind if I do!” He stretches expansively and bobs his mulleted head with a grin. “Just need ta take a quick look at the equipment.” Jogging over and bouncing up the bus steps, the roadie pokes his head in for a peek and adds “Aaaand we are good!” 

~

Cas does come along and the four get into Dean’s Impala, making it to IHOP in record time and piling around the booth already containing the others. 

Sam is smashed against the wall by the window with a gigantic plate of flapjacks that apparently everyone else has decided looks better than theirs. Jo and Alex are picking pieces off his pancakes with their forks. Jody is trying to keep Claire seated so she does not sneak off to the bathroom in order to ditch them, and Ellen and Donna alternatively ply Kevin with food and try to soothe their waitress’s obvious nerves that spike when the rest of the clan arrives.

“…I’m gonna need some coffee,” Dean says as he slides into the booth next to Claire. “Please. Now let’s see them pancakes,” he rubs his hands together and picks up a menu. “This is gonna be a damn good day….”

“Do you sell hamburgers at this establishment?” Castiel inquires as he too sits down. Dean nearly chokes on the coffee he had just been given.

“Did you just—order a burger at a pancake house, man?”

“Yes, I enjoy burgers. They make me very happy,” The bus driver says.

“I ain’t disputin’ that, Cas, it’s just…this place doesn’t DO burgers. Why would they?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel appears genuinely confused and dejected, which makes Claire call him a doof and Dean promises to buy him a hamburger later as he asks the waitress for a plate of the works. 

“Speaking of later, you guys are coming to our gig tonight, right?” Charlie asks. “It’s Queen night.”

“Queen, like, you’re the queen, or drag queen, or…what?”

“You’ll just have to show up tonight and see. No spoilers,” Charlie responds, beaming.

Sam and Dean glance across the table at each other. Sam lifts his shoulders as best he can in a shrug, and the eldest decides with a smack of the lips and jerk of his chin that yep, “We’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR TRAUMATIC BACKSTORY BELOW:
> 
> So I have Alex's family being crappy people, as they were pretty shitty in canon as well. I leave it up to my readers to decide what exactly they did and what Alex "helping them" entailed. She was psychologically abused and forced to go along with what they did in the show, so I figure that was probably similar to the case here. Poor girl :( thank heavens Ellen and Jo looked out for her and Jody and Donna got her out!
> 
> As for Claire, though in this story I chose not to go into it that much, I have Castiel being her father Jimmy's twin brother who was not a part of their lives much until Jimmy and Amelia, Claire's parents, died. Their deaths were the result of an accident that Claire cannot accept, so she thinks they were killed by monsters - hence the roots of her 'conspiracy theories' are in trauma from her past. Cas loves her very much, he is just not exactly parent material, and wants her to be safe and well cared-for. That is the reason he is guarding her but was also happy to let her be adopted by Jody (and Donna too).


	6. Gig.

After Dean stuffs his face with at least a pound of pancakes, an omelette, and as much sausage and bacon as he possibly can, he and Sam part ways with the Moondor Maidens and company until they are to meet that night at a tavern called The Saint. “Never thought I’d voluntarily enter a place with that name,” Dean jokes after getting the information on when to arrive." I may hafta go to confession."

He and his brother check into a hotel and take a load off for the rest of the day – Dean alternates between sleeping and watching Pay Per View, while Sam leaves the room and sits in the lobby, grading papers and contacting Jess to see how things are going.

~

By the time they leave that night and find parking in Midtown, the Saint is already rocking with a pile-driving bass-thumping beat. Sam stares at his older brother in shock. “Dean, is that—”

Dean’s face splits into an incredulous grin and he laughs aloud. “No way. No _way_ they got the go-ahead to sing that!” He pushes the door open to see the place jam-packed, and Alex is currently up on stage strumming the bass like her life depends on it. Claire is pounding the drums, and Charlie is crowing:

_“Pressure! Pushing down on me, pressing down on you, no one has fault. Under pressure, burns a building down, splits a family in two, puts people on streets!”_

Jo swings herself around from behind Charlie, holding her own microphone and singing _“Ba-ba-ba-ba-bah Ba-ba-ba-ba-bah, okay!”_

 _“Eh-deh-da-dah!”_ Charlie beams with sheer, unabashed, unadulterated joy as she bangs her head whilst her fingers fly over the keyboard she is playing. 

Jo, Jo Harvelle - Sam can hardly reconcile what he is seeing now with that girl he met when he was twelve years old as she comes into the center of the stage to belt out Bowie's first solo: _“It's the terror of knowing what this world is about, watching some good friends screaming - ”_

Alex leans in to add her voice to Jo's: _“Let me out!”_

The entire place is rolling as servers dodge around the swinging, swaying crowd. Dean pumps his fists and yells the words, completely in his element.

Sam feels a heaviness settle into his chest when he hears:

_"Insanity laughs, under pressure we're cracking—"_

_"Can't we give ourselves one more chance? Why can't we give love one more chance? Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love, give love...?"_

He thinks of his father and of their broken family. Why CAN'T they just love each other, without reservation or pushing one another away, turning away from it all like the blind man? Can Sam give his dad another chance; can Adam do so too?

_"'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word and love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, and love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves!"_

_"People on the streets!"_

_"...This is our last chance, this is our last dance; this is ourselves under pressure."_

Sam blinks hard, almost shocked when the song is over and the tavern is shaking and booming with applause. Dean wolf-whistles, fingers in his mouth shooting out a piercing sound ...and probably spraying everyone in front of him with spit, Sam thinks.

"Thank you!" Charlie says, her microphone crackling a little with feedback. "Thank you so much! We're the Moondor Maidens, and this is us kicking off Queen night! Which is a lotta pressure, so you can see why that was our first song." There are chuckles and whoops. "So, um, we're going to keep this going with some of my favorite things —'Fat Bottomed Girls'."

There are cheers as all of the Maidens sing in unison:

_"Ohhh, gonna take you home tonight! Ohhh, down beside that red firelight! Ohhh, are you gonna let it all hang out? Fat-bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go 'round!!!"_

Alex and Jo go right into the guitar and bass parts while Charlie taps her fingers to the beat on her mic stand. A couple of the next words are a little different when Charlie belts them out.

_"I was just a skinny lass, not growin' up too fast, but I knew life before I left my nursery! Along came big fat Fanny, she was such a naughty nanny, heap big woman made a bad girl outta me!"_

Jo's hair is swinging and her face is intent as her fingers fly over the guitar strings. Dean shakes his head in awe and tips it close to Sam's to yell "Damn, can you believe Jo's shredding that guitar, Sammy?"

"I didn't even know she could play!" Sam shouts back, eyes alight. "She's - awesome!"

"...And Claire is pounding the crap outta those drums," his older brother adds, obviously impressed.

"Yeah," Sam closely watches the drummer and muses about what he had been told of her life. "... Y'know," he clears his throat and rubs his nose, "Drumming might be therapeutic for her, Dean. Sure seems to hold on to a lotta residual anger. Kind of like somebody else I know."

"Oh gimme a break, man," his brother scoffs and cuts his eyes sideways. "Can't we just listen to the music, or is everything a psycho-babble session just _waiting_ to happen with you?" Smacking his lips and pushing through the crowds, Dean continues over his shoulder, "Because if that's the case, I'm gonna need a drink. 'Scuse me," he calls to a server who turns to him with a smile that he automatically returns. "Yeah, hi. Can I get a whiskey, neat? Make it a double. And uh, whatever little miss here wants." He waves at Sam.

"I'll just have a beer, please. Thank you." The server nods and heads back to put their orders in. Sam gives his brother a reproachful look. "Dude, seriously? Am I not allowed to make observations now?"

"No no, observe away," Dean leans against a wall with a nonchalant arm sweep. "It just seems like there's always somethin' behind the words." The server comes back on cue and hands Dean's and Sam's drinks over. "Thank you," Dean lifts his glass to his brother and says "Cheers" before swigging about half of it in one gulp. Sam leans back and shakes his head. "What?" Dean asks with a lip smack and a raised eyebrow.

Sam chuckles. This is ridiculous. "... Nothing, Dean. Just drink your whiskey and let's listen -"

"Whoa, are you now suggesting we have FUN?" He gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "I'm shocked. No seriously, Sam." Widening his eyes comically, Dean leans in and grabs his brother's shirt. "I'm am _azed._ "

"Eat me, Dean," Sam mumbles and shoves the other away before he pops off the top of his beer and takes a drink. The elder smirks and in the background all the members of Charlie's band harmonize together,

_"We are the champions of the world...,"_

~

After the conclusion of the Maidens' set, the Winchesters hang around the pub, Dean nursing another drink. Whether it is number three or four, Sam decides not to ask.

Dean is clearly ogling Jo's guitar, but he is also sitting tactfully in place a few feet from her as her mother has incredibly sharp eyes. Jo cocks her eyebrows at him. "Are you afraid of my mother?" she asks.

Dean opens his mouth and glances over at Ellen. "...Yeah, I think so," he replies. Jo looks down, hair falling forward as she smiles. 

Sam smiles too, though in his opinion Dean has every reason to be afraid of Ellen; both she and her daughter know about his ways with women. First it's a question about what they do, where they're from, and then it's a decision to go someplace quieter... Sam has seen his older brother in action far too many times. However he is sure that Jo is smarter than, say, that server Dean had been making eyes at earlier. At least Jo Harvelle knows exactly the kind of game Dean Winchester is adept at playing.

As Dean dances around actually asking if he can hold Jo's guitar, Sam makes serious headway becoming a roadie. He wraps up extension cords and hauls amplifiers out the back door of the pub to where Castiel has parked the bus. "Thank you," the driver says solemnly and Sam sticks his hand out for an official introduction.

"You're Castiel, right? It's really great to meet you. I'm Sam."

Castiel takes Sam's hand in both of his after a moment and says "Likewise, Sam."

They let go and Sam lets out a slight chuckle, tucking some hair behind his ear as he checks to see whether or not he has hauled everything outside. As the band gathers near the exit, he bursts out: "You guys were so good, like, really really good."

Charlie clasps her hands together and pops one foot up. "Aw shucks Sam, thank you!"

Alex bobs her head. "Appreciate the support." 

Jo gives him a thumbs-up and Claire shrugs. "We're not Queen, but I guess we did all right."

Jo is laughing now as she hands her guitar over to Dean, who has a look of bliss on his face, eyes closed and expression smooth and awed. Sam watches his older brother strum a chord before his vision is obscured by Ash and his mullet.

"Sam! Gotta ask ya somethin', you looking to become a roadie? 'Cause uh, after carrying all this, you might have a job."

Sam laughs. "Oh, no. Thanks, I just ...um did theatre back in high school. Was part of the stage crew, so I guess it came back to me."

"You were a theatre nerd," Claire pipes up bluntly. "Shoulda guessed."

"Takes one to know one, Claire," Alex tells her. "With this girl, things are one hundred-percent D-R-A-M-A." Alex smirks as she speaks and Claire gives her a shove.

"Hey hey," Jody's tone snaps sharp as a whip as she comes over from where she had been talking to the manager. "None of that, girls." Alex and Claire exchange glances, and Sam's eyes widen. Jody is definitely on top of things. Has eyes in the back of her head, like all good moms. "We ready to go? I talked to the manager and he said everything's squared away. We can head on whenever we need to, and come back anytime," she adds with a proud little grin as she puts an arm around Alex, who leans into her side.

"You use your charm on him, Jody?"

"Eh well, I did drop the line that I'm an officer of the law who can get in touch with the local leos to get this place a liquor license extension. Potentially."

"...Of course ya did," Ellen drawls. Sam laughs in shock that Jody can be so calm and toss out a joke like that. If it is a joke....

"Hey, are you guys gonna keep yakkin' or are we going to get something to eat? Let's go, campers!" Dean calls out.

"Well you were the one who was taking all that time playing Jo's guitar, so excuse _us_ , Dean!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is to be continued...
> 
> There is actually a bar/tavern in Reno, Nevada called the Saint. Sadly I have not personally been there, so if any of my readers have, I hope they will forgive any inaccuracies in its setup or location.
> 
> (And yes, I just HAD to include Charlie's band singing Queen.) Songs included are "Under Pressure" featuring David Bowie, "Fat-Bottomed Girls", and a little snippet from "We Are The Champions" :)


End file.
